wondered what was in the air. Brandur stood there with one hand
resting on the haystack, while he thrust the other into his trousers
pocket, or underneath the flap of his trousers. He always wore the
old-fashioned trousers with a flap, in fact had never possessed any
other kind. Meanwhile, holding the reins, Jon stood there gazing at
the hay and making a mental estimate of it. Then he turned to his
father-in-law and spoke:

The purpose of my visit to you, my dear Brandur, is to ask that you
let us have this hay--this fine old hay that you have here. The
District Council will, of course, pay you; the parish will guarantee
payment. We have discussed that matter fully.

When Jon ceased speaking, Brandur blew the air from his mouth in
great puffs, as though deeply stabbed by a sharp pain in the heart.
For a while he held his peace. Then he spoke:

Not another word! Not another word! What's this I hear? My hay for
the district? My hay to supply all the farmers in the district? Do
you think for one moment that this little haystack is enough to feed
all the flocks in the whole district? Do you think this tiny haycock
will be enough for a whole parish? I think not!

But we have calculated it, protested Jon. We have estimated that the
hay in this stack will be enough to feed the flocks in the district
for about two weeks, if a little grain is used with it, and if the
hay is distributed equally among the farmers who need it most. There
may be enough for three weeks, should it turn to be as much as or
more than I expect. By that time, we surely hope, the season will be
so far advanced that the weather will have changed for the better.